


Raining On Cloud Nine

by Stay_Frosty



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Drinking, F/M, Hospitals, Kyle Bishop Lives, M/M, Tom and Derek Solidarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29335989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stay_Frosty/pseuds/Stay_Frosty
Summary: This is basically taking a look at the last few episodes of Smash from Tom's perspective if Kyle's Bishop lived. There will be some plot divergence because I wanted to explore some other characters and their dynamics too.
Relationships: Ivy Lynn/Derek Wills, Julia Houston & Tom Levitt, Kyle Bishop/Tom Levitt, Tom Levitt/Sam Strickland (mentioned)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Raining On Cloud Nine

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly do not know if people still read Smash fanfiction - but if you do - hi !! thank you for being here :) Let me know your thoughts if you feel like it :)

Everything that could have possibly gone well for Tom that evening had, but cloud nine was damp and much lonelier than he had anticipated. Although he was thankful for the opportunities that the last few days had offered him, there was something that just felt incredibly dull and missing. He couldn’t help but wonder if everyone else could feel it too. It seemed unlikely.

Even Tom would admit that it was difficult to not be enveloped by the cheery atmosphere of the night. The lighting of the room was soft and the music was beautiful, a delicate backdrop to the casual chatter surrounding the room. Under most circumstances, the composer would be in his element, however, at that given moment the place felt crowded, suffocating, yet tragically empty. 

He needed some air.

When Tom politely excused himself from a conversation that he was hardly paying attention to anyway, Julia flashed him a concerned glance. If he didn’t feel so numb, yet so terribly anxious, he would be comforted by the fact that she was worried about him despite the rocky patch they’d hit lately, not only as partners but as friends. They had made up, of course - they always did - another thing that Tom found himself grateful for. 

The look in Julia’s eyes said: _“do you need me?”_ and Tom knew that she would drop everything to follow him if that was what he needed her to do. She had demonstrated that more so than ever over the previous few days, specifically on the occasions where Tom would look down at his phone for just a little bit too long and would then have to rush outside and grab something for support, choking and dry heaving whilst he fought back tears and struggled for breath. Julia would excuse herself accordingly, following him and rubbing a gentle hand on his back and holding him until he felt calmer. It didn’t take her long to figure out why exactly he was so worked up recently, but when it dawned on her, she had barely let him leave her side. 

Tonight, however, the last thing he wanted to do was bring her mood down along with his. In hindsight, she was probably feeling the same. How was it that they saw right through each other one minute, but could be hopelessly blind the next? He flashed a smile that he hoped was convincing, but he knew that Julia would see right through him as always. Regardless, the message was the same. _“I’m fine, just need to be on my own.”_

He left the building, wincing momentarily as the bitter air hit his face. The sudden breeze juxtaposed the complete lack of oxygen in the building and in turn, made Tom feel somewhat light-headed, no matter how good fresh air felt in his lungs. He used the railing of the stairs to support himself. The cool metal felt good beneath his hands as it cooled his burning skin, grounding him.

He offhandedly put the way his surroundings seemed to tingle down to the amount of alcohol in his system, which had initially helped to create a low buzz in his stomach and enabled him to form polite smiles all that much easier when he needed to save face. It did, however, do nothing for his paranoia. Booze would only numb his thoughts for so long, and as he glanced out into the street his mind began to wander to the same place it often had done recently: Kyle. 

Kyle, who should have been there to collect his own award that he had so rightly deserved. Tom could vividly picture what the glow on the kid’s face would have looked like had he been there; he would be so excited, and Tom would be so, _so_ proud of him. He _was_ proud, that went without saying, he just wished he could be there in person to tell Kyle that. 

He should visit again, now that Kyle was awake. He convinced himself that he would have by now, but the image of the kid’s bruised and battered body had been ingrained into his mind, and he selfishly did not want to relive the sickness in his stomach from seeing him for the first time.

Heck, he wasn’t even sure whether or not Kyle would want to hear from him. After all, they were never exclusive. They were a drunken tryst, one that had ruined Kyle’s _real_ relationship, even if it had meant so much to Tom. Maybe a near-death experience had given the kid some clarity - that he didn’t want to be messing around with someone past his prime when he had a stable relationship with someone his age right there waiting for him.

Maybe Tom was just avoiding any confirmation of that being the case, but he couldn’t hide forever. Not from Kyle, who was far too sweet and gentle to ever hurt someone on purpose. Tom could only imagine how awful he felt about hurting Blake, even if he had planned to tell him the truth soon.

He’d told Tom that one night as they lay in bed, limbs tangled together with Kyle’s head resting on his chest, talking about how Blake would take it. _“Do you regret this?”_ Tom had asked, bracing himself for the answer. _“I’d do it again,”_ Kyle replied, teasing, but Tom could tell he was sincere. 

Lost in his own thoughts of better times, Tom barely noticed the doors behind him open and close. He didn’t bother looking behind him to check who it was, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t face anyone right now, not even Julia or Ivy. Maybe he could have faced Sam if he hadn’t fucked that up so much as well. God, is this what a midlife crisis felt like? 

“Levitt,” a voice greeted from behind him. 

Oh, _God_ . He took it back, it _did_ in fact matter who was there. Tom could barely deal with Derek on his good days, let alone when he was feeling as though he could crumble at any minute. 

“Derek,” he beamed, his tone dripping with sarcasm which would go undetected if they both didn’t know better. He refused to give Wills the satisfaction of seeing him break. “How great to see you.”

The director grumbled something unintelligible in response, but Tom didn’t care enough to ask him what it was. The less he had to interact with Derek tonight the better, which is why he could barely contain the sigh that left his lips when the taller man began to approach. 

“Look, I know the sight of me falling to pieces is probably some wet dream for you,” Tom began, wincing at his own crude language, but staying calm nonetheless. “But I could do without hearing whatever insult you’ve got to say to me right now.” 

This was their game, Derek would tease, and pick and condescend and then play innocent when Tom lost his shit and made a scene, always coming out looking like the unstable one. He wasn’t playing along tonight though, even if that was just because he knew he’d probably dissolve into tears rather than bite back. He’d certainly look unstable then. 

Derek raised a hand in surrender, the other occupied by a drink, and Tom was surprised to see that he seemed genuine. There wasn’t that spark behind the director’s eyes that would appear whenever he would get under Tom’s skin. Apparently, he really wasn’t seeking out an argument tonight, but Tom did not let his guard down completely.

More so, he didn’t know whether to feel deflated or relieved that Derek was backing off and giving him a break. Did he really look so pathetic that even Derek Wills was taking pity on him? He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a conversation that had been friendlier than _civil,_ and it felt as though some sort of balance had been disturbed. 

“You look like you need it,” Derek commented as he passed Tom the glass he was holding. It was filled with some sort of strong-smelling liquor that he couldn’t identify. Derek’s voice was far from genuinely concerned, but it was much less pissy than usual, Tom thought, as he considered accepting the drink. He stared at the glass that was being hovered in front of him, reasoning to himself that he probably could do with a liquid pick me up. 

“I’m not drinking that, you’ve already had half of it,” he responded, playing petty despite his earlier resolve to stay civil. At least the tiredness he felt etched into his skull had stopped the words from seeming as bitter as he felt. 

Derek shrugged in reply, taking a sip of said drink. “Suit yourself,” he said nonchalantly, but Tom didn’t miss the look of rejection that flashed behind his eyes. Others may have missed it, but the two had been friends, once. It didn’t matter how messy the argument that they had ended on was, or how many years they had gone holding on to bitterness, Tom would pick up on those small things that Derek did and knew exactly what they meant. 

It was then he realised that the drink was an olive branch of sorts - Derek’s protected way of admitting _“I don’t hate you as much as you think I do”_ \- and Tom had declined it. With a heavy, reluctant sigh, he decided that he had more important things to deal with than a feud that had gone on for long enough; he was an adult, he would act like one. 

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Tom admitted, somewhat reluctantly. Owning up to when he was wrong was always a sore spot for him, as Julia had pointed out many times, but he couldn’t stand the tension in the air that he had created. 

Derek raised his brows, an amused smirk creeping upon his face, as patronizing as always. “Is this an apology, Tom?” he mused. 

The composer tried not to scoff, and instead sent Derek a look that said ‘ _are you kidding me right now?_

Derek chuckled, but it was hardly done with malicious intent. “I’m teasing you.”

Tom rolled his eyes before deflating. “Well _don’t_ ,” he retorted, softer than he intended to. It came out as more of a plea than demand, and he felt as though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole when Derek broke his facade and shot him a worried look. 

“He’s been asking after you, you know,” the director said slowly, testing his boundaries yet acting as if there wasn’t any weight to his words. It was easier to pretend that this was just any old conversation, he supposed. Tom didn’t know how much Derek knew about them, or how much Kyle _wanted_ him to know, but could hardly play dumb when his head had shot up so quickly, a hopeful glint in his eyes. 

“He has?” 

Derek nodded, his face uncharacteristically sympathetic. Tom could melt. He didn’t care at that moment how vulnerable he looked at that moment, in front of Derek of all people, because Kyle had asked about him. That had to mean something, _anything._ At the very least Tom could call or visit without being given the awkward cold shoulder. 

His relief, however, was short-lived and replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. Everything that Tom was worried about having to experience, the fear of rejection and the awkwardness, Kyle was likely already going through all because Tom hadn’t bothered to call. 

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Derek said as if he was reading Tom’s mind. Maybe he was just that predictable at that moment, but regardless Tom wasn’t sure he would ever get used to Derek being gentle with him. Maybe the director wasn’t as terrible as he had first thought - maybe that was just their dynamic - and when Tom was too fragile to go along with it, they put it on pause. 

Tom sighed. “I went to see him before he woke up, as soon as I got the call actually,” he began, unsure as to why he was spilling his emotions to Derek of all people. Regardless, he carried on. “It was awful seeing him like that, I guess I wasn’t ready to go through it again.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly in frustration with himself. He didn’t even know if he should be revealing to Derek how close he was to Kyle; they had been a secret before the accident, Tom wasn’t sure if they were any different now.

Heck, Tom didn’t know if they were even together, or if they ever really were. The thoughts he was barely managing to suppress came creeping back up every time he thought out visiting Kyle. 

“I’m not sure I was supposed to tell you that,” he admitted, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot Tom, I just mind my own bloody business,” he responded. Tom couldn’t help but chuckle at his blunt words; it was reassuring to know that the director hadn’t gone _completely_ soft. “He lights up like a candle when he sees you, it was obvious.” 

It took every ounce of will power for Tom to not dissolve into tears at the director’s words. Knowing that Kyle likely felt the same way he did was almost enough to soothe his constant doubts and worries about whether or not he should visit, and what he’d do if Kyle had rejected him. 

“I feel like a teenager,” he admitted with a wet laugh, tears collecting in his eyes despite his will to stop them. Of all people to make him feel better that night, he hardly expected it to be Derek Wills. If Tom was a little bit more.. _.present_ , he would have asked the director what exactly it was that had put him in such a good mood that night, apart from the obvious _awards_ that they had won. 

“Right, well, Ivy’s probably thinking I’ve gotten _lost_ so I’m gonna head back inside,” Derek announced, a tinge of guilt in his words. They both knew that what he really meant was she’d begin to wonder if Derek was throwing himself at another woman, and rightly so. 

_“You’re back together?”_ Tom exclaimed much harsher than he had intended to. Surely Ivy wouldn’t - after _everything_ that Derek had done to her. 

“Oh, _come on_ , Levitt,” the director snapped, matching his animosity. Defensive, but not exactly defending himself at all. He didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on lately. “I’m not gonna mess her around this time.” 

Derek managed to utter the promise with such earnestness that Tom nearly believed him, but he’d talk to Ivy about it anyway - make sure everything was okay. Even if he had the energy to argue with Derek about the way he treated Ivy, he was caught off guard by someone calling his name. 

“I know you said you didn’t want me to follow, but you were gone longer than I expected and I just needed to know you were okay,” Julia said frantically, cupping his face like a concerned mother, checking him over for signs of distress. 

“I’m okay,” he assured her in a whisper, pressing their foreheads together and allowing himself to be comforted by his best friend’s touch. “I’m gonna see him tomorrow.” 

Julia pulled away, gripping his shoulders and looking directly at him, a grin plastered on her face. “That’s amazing,” she said, bringing him into a bone-crushing embrace. Her grip was forceful but loving, and Tom wasn’t complaining in the slightest. “I’m so proud of you.” 


End file.
